


Simply couldn't be bad

by Petra



Category: DCU - Comicverse, Daddy-Long-Legs - Jean Webster
Genre: Epistolary, Fusion, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-07
Updated: 2007-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petra/pseuds/Petra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You could even be Batman, for all I know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simply couldn't be bad

**Author's Note:**

> This has nothing to do with [](http://glossing.livejournal.com/profile)[**glossing**](http://glossing.livejournal.com/)'s recent story and everything to do with the fact that I had never read the novel in question before, and that once I had, epistolary fiction was absolutely necessary.

  
September 24, 19--

Dear Mr. Gordon's Friend,

Thank you for sending me to the Westhills Academy. I know you're only doing it as a favor to Mr. Gordon -- maybe I should be saying Lieutenant Gordon? -- but anyway, I really appreciate it a lot. Mr. Gordon says I would probably be dead if Tony Zucco found me.

I am not sure why you care whether I'm dead, much, because I don't know who you are, but Mr. Gordon said I should write to you every now and then, so I am.

I don't have a lot to say yet. I haven't made many friends here. Everybody has a lot more stuff than I ever have. My family --

We were never poor, we just moved a lot. Of course, if you know who I am, you know that. So we never had the toys and games and even all the clothes that the boys here do. I'm glad we get to wear uniforms, so no one has to know I don't have anything else to wear.

I don't get to use my name, either. Mr. Gordon gave me a new one, and I answer to it all the time. It makes me miss my parents

\-- sorry, I didn't mean to smudge the ink.

I should go work on my homework. Everybody here knows stuff I don't, too, because they all went to regular school. I can read and write really well -- you can tell, right? But I don't know a lot about different books. Anyway, if I don't study, I'm wasting your money, and I don't know who you are, but that wouldn't be nice of me.

It would be stupid to sign this with my real name, in case somebody found it and sent it to Tony Zucco. But I don't want to use the name that's not my name either, so I'm going to use the name my mom used to call me that nobody except people who know me from when I was a little kid would know.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

October 8, 19--

Dear Mr. Gordon's Friend,

The guys in the dorm have started to talk to me a little -- there's Bob, and Joe, and really they're the only ones so far. And the only reason they're doing that is because I saw Batman last night.

He was outside the window, and he looked right at me and then he disappeared. I know people in Gotham say he's not really real sometimes, but he was real, and he was there. Maybe you've seen him, too. Maybe you even believe in him. Bob and Joe do, but I don't know whether the teachers here would tell me to stop talking about it. I haven't mentioned seeing him to any grown-ups at all.

I saw him at the circus. That night. So I know he's real, and I'm not going to stop believing he is even if you write back to me and say that you'll never pay for any more time at school if I don't stop talking about him.

He's more real than you are, because I know what he looks like and I don't even know what you look like. Or if you're Mr. Gordon's lady friend or man friend, or anything. He didn't say and I haven't seen him in three weeks, and I don't know who to ask.

You could even be Batman, for all I know. Of course you're not, but I'm going to pretend you are unless you tell me you're not. Maybe then I'll find out who's being so nice to me.

I'm going to go study my algebra more now. We're up to linear equations and it doesn't make a lot of sense to me. Goodnight, Batman.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

October 28, 19--

Dear Batman,

John says he's going to dress up as you for Hallowe'en. Not you-you, whoever you are, but Batman. John lives next door and is the lead in the play this year. I think he thinks he's good at doing imitations of Batman, but mostly he makes me laugh. I try to laugh really quietly so he doesn't hear and get mad, but sometimes it's really obvious.

Last week I got in big trouble -- probably you already know this, but I'd better tell you just in case Mr. Gordon hasn't said anything to you yet. A couple of guys were going through my stuff and found a picture of my parents and laughed at it.

I had to deck them.

I'm still not sorry.

I don't know if anybody's ever made fun of your parents. Maybe your parents are still alive and you see them every day and you're tired of hearing them talk to you, but my parents aren't alive and I miss them a lot. Anybody who makes fun of them deserves to get decked.

My mom would be really mad if she heard me say that, but she's not here to get mad. Maybe you'll get mad, too. Maybe they'll kick me out of Westhills and I'll have to go back to the circus.

I bet I could deck Tony Zucco, too.

Just thinking about what happened makes me so mad I can hardly write. So I'll stop.

If you're mad, just imagine what you'd feel if your parents died and then somebody made fun of them, and maybe you won't be mad at me anymore.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

November 11, 19--

Dear Batman,

Because of Armistice Day, there was a moment of silence today, and also a bunch of guys who used to go to school here came to visit. Mr. Luthor seems like he's too old to ever have gone to school anywhere, and he and Mr. Wayne spent the whole day pretending like they were friends, but they're not, you can tell. They always look a little tense. I'm glad I didn't have to give them a tour of the new dormitory -- it was bad enough just being here when they came by.

I went and looked in the old yearbooks in the library and they were glaring at each other in a bunch of pictures. Mr. Luthor sure went bald young, but Mr. Wayne looked like a nice guy, back when he was a kid. The kind of guy you'd want to be chums with, if you got the chance.

Maybe you get the chance, because you're really Batman. I bet Batman isn't friends with anybody.

I didn't get in trouble today, either, though I started sneezing partway through the national anthem and I think maybe I have a cold, so I should get some sleep.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

December 20, 19--

Dear Batman,

I bet you thought I died! Mr. Gordon came by to visit me last week and he looked all worried because I hadn't written to you in ages. I'm sorry, I was in the infirmary and I had to take these pills that made me really tired.

I'm all better now, but I have a lot of work to do. Exams are next month and I slept most of this one.

Guess it's just as well I don't have anywhere to go for Christmas.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

December 24, 19--

Dear Batman,

Either you're Mr. Wayne and you're really secretive, or you know him and you don't want me to know who you are, so you told him not to mention anything.

I'm not sure yet. The room they said I could sleep in is really big, and Mr. Pennyworth the butler is very nice but he doesn't seem to like kids. If you're Mr. Wayne, why is your butler so fussy? If you're not, I wonder if you know Mr. Wayne well enough to know why his house is so big and echoey. You could fit five dorms worth of kids in here and it still wouldn't be full.

Mr. Pennyworth just knocked on my door and told me Father Christmas wasn't coming until I turned my light off. I don't want to tell him I don't believe in Santa Claus, so,

Merry Christmas,  
Robin

January 1, 19--

Dear Batman,

Happy New Year. I'm back at school, but you know that -- are you Mr. Wayne? Why did you pretend you didn't know who I meant by my letter-person, if you are?

It was a really pretty Christmas. Mr. Wayne said we had to have a tree, and I've never had a real one. Sometimes we'd decorate palm trees when we were wintering over in Florida, but it's not the same. We put popcorn on it and cranberries and candles, and there were ornaments that Mr. Wayne said belonged to his family.

I wish you'd tell me if you really are him.

Or what happened to his family, because he misses them a lot. I told him what happened to my parents and he just hugged me when I started getting choked up.

If you are him, I'm sorry what I said about Mr. Pennyworth last time. I think he was just scared I was going to break something, but I was really careful the whole time I was there, and when he brought me back to school, he smiled and said good-bye.

Everybody else in school is still at home for another three days, but that just means I get to read all of the books Mr. Wayne gave me for Christmas. He was really sad that I'd never read Robin Hood or the Scarlet Pimpernel.

I think you really are him, Batman, but in case I'm wrong, I'm not going to stop calling you Batman.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

January 6, 19--

Dear Batman,

I saw you last night!

I knew you hadn't forgotten me.

Well, not really you. Batman. Who's real, even though Mr. Whitehead says he's not.

Other than that, everything is normal, I'm passing algebra.

Tell Mr. Wayne that I really liked the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Yours Truly,  
Robin

February 21, 19--

Dear Bruce,

I'm sorry I locked you in the pantry, but I really had to know.

I didn't expect you to be really Batman -- not for true, just -- for the letters.

I guess we both have a lot to hide, huh.

But maybe not from each other?

Yours Truly,  
Dick

P.S. Please don't send me back to Westhills. I know you had a lot of fun there, but I don't have any friends.

February 22, 19--

Dear Alfred,

You were right about the note.

Thank you for the advice.

Love,  
Dick


End file.
